


Eight Lettered Slur for Torture

by tenshiya



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, gross fluff warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 15:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshiya/pseuds/tenshiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello? Ma’am? Returns and refunds are not accepted in the love department. The Guilt and Embarrassment you’d ordered will be yours, and yours forever. We apologize for any inconvenience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Lettered Slur for Torture

**Author's Note:**

> i'd written this on tumblr awhile ago, but decided to revise it for fyeahrunefactory's rf valentines week. this is for day 3: confession

Some say silence is peace, but within it resounds many words — unspoken, unsettling, and a downright pain in the ass to to keep quiet about.

Perched upon Frey’s lips, threatening to jump the edge, the simple sentiment had managed to set her heart racing — hands clammy, words shaky. It was like that when she woke up in the morning, when she picked out her clothes, took a walk, stared at the sky — when she was near Dylas (especially when she was near Dylas.)

And right now, with her fingers pressed faint on his neck and her left cheek buzzing against the soft beat of his heart while the two spent a lazy afternoon together, the words sent her in a blinding, suffocating chaos.

She’d managed to lessen her nerves by looping strands of his mane into a small braid, the ends meeting just below his chin to form a funny beard. Old man, old man, she’d sung, absentmindedly laughing as Dylas swatted her hands away in a fit of urgent embarrassment. She’d quickly sought for something else to preoccupy herself with afterwards, finding his cheeks, brushing over the crimson skin; then the warm palm of his hand, hugged against her collarbone. The ribbons on his vest were the next to fall victim to her restlessness, and afterwards, his flickering tail, the curve of his shoulders, and the fallen lash on his nose.

Finally, when Frey thought she could hold it in no longer, she steadied herself on his chest and brought her mouth to his as a last ditch effort to quiet herself. It worked only for a short time as he’d promptly nudged her off — sputtering, complaining about… his chapped lips, was it? She wasn’t paying  attention.

No, she had more important things on her mind — like how on earth could a timid man like him beat her, outgoing, ambitious, amiable Frey, to the punch? It’d been what? Nine months since he had told her: “I. love. you.” Bleating out the mush like a newborn wooly — so innocent, so vulnerable. Looking crestfallen, droopy-tailed, and wide-eyed when all she could return to him was a hesitation and a “Let’s take it slow.”

It had been humiliating (more so for her or for him was debatable), and now she had the nerve to change her mind? Make a withdrawal on her previous decision?

_Hello? Ma’am? Returns and refunds are not accepted in the love department. The Guilt and Embarrassment you’d ordered will be yours, and yours forever. We apologize for any inconvenience._

She’d frowned, the gesture being the only part of her body that gave away her unease as she stared at Dylas. He could very well have changed his mind about his feelings too, laugh in her face if she told him. But… didn’t he deserve to know?

Frey opened her mouth to speak — letting nothing but air in as her heart beat wildly. A moment passed, and Dylas had been about to question her for her odd behavior when she quickly ducked her head, nestling her face into his neck. “Dally…” she mumbled, the sensation of her lips pressed against his skin, causing him to jolt. “I just… wanted to let you know…” She heaved a long, airy sigh, her hands curling into tight fists. “I- Well, you see…” He ushered her to spit it out — she was making him nervous.

"I love you, okay?" The first three words slurred to form an almost-incoherent sound. She could hear his breath hitch, feel his body stiffen, and, when he unhooked her from himself, see the shock on his face — battered red as ever. He put a shaky hand on her forehead, brushing aside loose strands of hair, repeating the sentiment once, twice — over and over again, in such uncharacteristic forwardness that it left Frey in a stupor. She grinned, laughed, and let herself rest back on his chest, murmuring the words in reply.

“I love you, I love you.”


End file.
